


And The Award Goes To...

by Jay Auris (nighthawkms)



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Bottom Richie Tozier, Comedy references abound, Discipline, Dom/sub, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Established Relationship, Flogging, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Sub Richie Tozier, Subspace, Top Eddie Kaspbrak, Whoever finds the Stephon references (there's at least 2) first gets a shout out in the end notes, dom eddie kaspbrak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 16:46:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21377305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nighthawkms/pseuds/Jay%20Auris
Summary: After a night at the Emmy awards, Richie and Eddie enjoy a private celebration of their own.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 34
Kudos: 364





	And The Award Goes To...

**Author's Note:**

> There's not enough sub/bottom Richie in this fandom and I intend to change that. Shoutout to Actual_Crowley for the beta read.
> 
> This is basically pure smut with some feels at the end. Strap in and strap on if you need it ;D

The bedroom door slams open as Eddie and Richie come stumbling in, a mess of hands and lips meeting frantically. Richie's tie hangs loosely from his neck, the result of Eddie's half-finished attempt to rip it off of him. Eddie's shirttails are rucked up around his stomach, Richie's fingers slipping beneath to find smooth purchase against his blisteringly hot skin.

"Fucking- loved the- speech, babe," Eddie mumbles through hungry kisses. "How's it feel?"

Richie pants, hands on Eddie's waist, holding him there so he can grind his hips forward. "Mmmm, like- like I won- the lottery," he gasps. "C-can't fuckin' believe it."

"You sound like Bill right now," Eddie responds, pulling back to cup Richie's face. "Take a breath, baby."

Richie nods under his touch, nuzzling into his hand. "Sorry. I'm still processing. A fucking _Emmy_, Eds! If you had told me three years ago I'd be up on that stage, I'd have laughed in your face."

"You deserve it," Eddie grins.

It's true, Richie's new stand-up special, _Trashmouth Tozier: Out of the Dumpster_, scored near universal acclaim, with critics calling it _a complete 180 reversal from Tozier's dried out, 90s comedy club routines_ and _actually palatable_ and _a brave, stunning work of queer identity on the level of Hannah Gadsby's _Nanette_ that answers the question 'who is Richie Tozier and why should we give a fuck?'_ Six months later, and Richie stood under the bright lights of the Microsoft Theater, accepting the golden statue with an awestruck look that will definitely end up as a GIF by tomorrow morning and a viral new meme by next Friday.

"I couldn't have done it without you, Eds," Richie beams. He's not joking: Eddie is the one who kept pushing him to fire his writers and work on his own material, to be open about the pain of being closeted his entire life, and he's the one who came up with the idea to turn the whole deal with Pennywise into a bit about a reoccurring dream that forced him to confront deep childhood traumas. Plus, having the love of Richie's life reciprocate his feelings and become his boyfriend- and later, fiancé - did wonders for Richie's creative spark.

Eddie blushes, biting his lower lip in the way that makes Richie always want to pinch his cheeks. "I didn't do all that much."

"Bull-shit!" Richie exclaims, peppering Eddie's face with kisses and wrapping his arms around Eddie's back to pull him closer. "You were my very own muse. Maybe not what the Greeks were picturing and certainly not one of the ones from the Disney movie but still. You deserve praise just the same."

"You're sweet," Eddie murmurs, stroking Richie's cheek. "Too bad they already engraved the Emmy with your name only."

Richie's creative spark hasn't just extended to his comedy scripts; an idea comes to his mind now, something delightful and wicked and exactly what they need to cap the night off.

"You're right, Eddie Spaghetti," Richie says, grinning at him. "I'm so grateful to you, and I haven't taken the opportunity to show you. I really should know better. I'll have to make it up to you."

Eddie, probably sensing Richie is up to something, frowns at him curiously. "What did you have in mind?"

Richie finds the end of his tie and takes Eddie's hand, pressing the fabric between Eddie's fingers. "Well, I think it's more, how exactly do you want to extract your reward from me?" He leans forward, mouthing at Eddie's earlobe, smirking at the shiver that travels through Eddie's lithe frame. "I leave that decision in your capable hands."

Eddie pulls back, searching Richie's expression; Richie knows he understands when he asks, "Green?"

It's a game they play, sometimes. Something to spice up the bedroom, like a jalapeno that you might add to a good paella. It's nice in small doses, but if you ate nothing but jalapenos all day, you'd get tired of them pretty quick. So too do they reserve this as an occasional _amuse bouche_.

Richie nods his head, already feeling his cock twitch at the thought of what might be in store. "Green as toxic runoff, babe."

Eddie snorts but quickly steels his expression, fisting the bottom of Richie's tie and turning around. "I do think you owe me," he says as he leads Richie back towards the bed. "And I intend to collect."

Richie nods eagerly, following along, entirely focused on Eddie, like a bloodhound with a scent. "I'm confident in your ability to do so,"

Eddie presses the backs of his legs to the mattress and sits down. "Take your clothes off, Richie," Eddie orders, leaning back on one arm, still holding the tie in the other hand. "Everything but this."

"Yes, sir," Richie responds, casting his eyes down as he starts unbuttoning his shirt. He, too, is settling into a familiar role, letting the comfortable, easy sensation of submission wash over him. And Eddie is so, so easy to submit to. He's confident, firm but fair in how he treats Richie, never trying to push him past his comfort level. Pleasingly, Richie's comfort level has evolved over the years, growing more tolerant of trying new things. With each step they take, each tool they add to their metaphorical kinky tool belt, Richie finds himself enjoying it more and more; finds it easier to slip into that warm, comforting head space, where all he has to worry about are Eddie's wants and needs, and he knows Eddie will take care of his own.

The shirt comes off, tossed into the hamper near the bed, and then Richie's pants and boxers join it. He lost his shoes near the front door, and he toes off his socks last, scooping them up as well and throwing them into the laundry. He considers leaving them on the floor, knowing Eddie will feel some way about it, maybe punish him for it, but he's not looking for that kind of trouble just yet.

"Very good," Eddie says when Richie is finished. Richie savors the little shiver that curls down his spine. Funny how two simple words can draw such powerful feelings out of him. He remembers lots of little moments between them, of simple words, like _I love you_ and _I'm yours_ and _marry me_. All good moments, each with their own similar but complex feelings.

This moment feels same in many ways, but far different in others.

Eddie reaches up and smooths a hand down Richie's chest as Richie stands still, hands clasped behind his back, head bowed forward, assuming the position he presumes Eddie wants him in right now. Richie worries his lip, tries to keep from pressing forward into Eddie's palm. He knows that Eddie likes to see Richie display some self-control, to show Eddie that he knows who is in charge and will only move if he's directed to, will only speak when spoken to.

Eddie teases him with the demand of self-restraint very often. He once tied Richie's hands to the bed frame and straddled Richie's hips, ordering him not to make a noise while he sank down onto Richie's cock and pleasured himself. Richie failed twice, and each time, Eddie got himself off and left Richie as a shivering, come-splattered mess on the bed, not allowed to move until Eddie was ready to go again. By the third time, Richie was silently crying, but he succeeded and the scream he let out when Eddie told him he could make noise again while he jerked Richie off was loud enough that Eddie thought they would get a noise complaint from the neighbors.

Eddie told him later that the way Richie looked, how pliable and at ease he was afterwards, curled against Eddie's chest in the bath, made any risk worth it.

"Do you think you'll be able to be fucked tonight?" Eddie asks. God, the way he asks it, _to be fucked_, as if Richie's just an object for Eddie to put his cock in. Richie's going to come without being touched at this rate.

Richie nods, then remembers that Eddie will want him to use his words. "I made sure I was ready before we left for the show."

"Of course you did," Eddie smirks, switching his hand to smooth it across the shallow curve of Richie's backside. "How prepared did you- Oh."

_Oh_. Richie lets out a whine as Eddie's fingers brush the hard surface of an object Richie hadn't told him about.

"Richie!" Eddie exclaims. "You've been wearing this all night?"

"Uh huh," Richie says, whining again when Eddie pushes his fingertips against the object, shifting it inside of Richie. "Thank god I was too nervous to get a hard-on in front of the cameras. The rags would never let me live it down."

Eddie chuckles, pulling his hand back. "Yeah, dumb ass, that was a stupid risk. I was considering punishing you for this, but I think you probably spent most of the evening in your own kind of self-imposed torture."

Richie nods, licking his lips. "You think talking to Anderson Cooper while wearing a plug is easy, Eds? The man is _fine_, no offense."

"I think you're fishing for some discipline at this point," Eddie responds. "Talking up another man when I'm right here. And you know that's not what you call me when we're doing this."

"Sorry, sir," Richie answers, though he's not really. Okay, maybe Eddie is right, maybe Richie would like a _little_ discipline. Eddie does it so well, though. Can't fault a guy for fishing.

Eddie stands up, leaning in to brush his lips gently over Richie's. "No, you're not. So, I'll have to make you be. Get on the bed," he commands. "On all fours, head on the sheets, ass in the air."

Richie clambers onto the mattress as Eddie moves towards their closet, stretching himself out languidly for a moment to get the kinks out of his back. Then he plants his forearms out in front of him and scoots his knees together, lifting off them to raise his behind. He settles his chin on the comforter, taking slow breaths. This is comfortable, this is easy. No thinking required, just Eddie's firm command and the solid trust they've built between them.

Eddie's making some noises as he digs through the closet, and Richie thinks he might be playing it up, taking longer than needed to make Richie squirm. It's working; given a moment to be still and completely focused on his own body, Richie can't help but feel the way the plug stretches him wide open, or the way the tip of his cock brushing the sheets sends powerful, near painful vibrations of pleasure up through his abdomen. God, he's so wound up. Eddie had better not take too much longer.

Richie's about to make a quippy remark to see if it'll make Eddie hurry up when he hears the other man return to the bedside and feels the gentle drag of leather strips across his ass cheeks. Richie moans and digs his nails into his palms.

Fuck, Eddie picked out the flogger. Of all the damn toys.

"You can be as loud as you want to," Eddie explains, ghosting the cool leather down the back of Richie's thighs. "But you're not allowed to move. I won't stop until you either yellow light me, or I feel you've gotten what you deserve. If you do move, I'll tie you down and you'll spend the rest of the night plugged up and aching for me."

"_Eddie_," Richie nearly sobs, toes curling. He's such a visual thinker that he can picture everything Eddie's describing in vivid detail. The prospect of being bound up next to Eddie all night, no relief from his lust is as exciting as it is terrifying. "I'll be good!"

"I know you will, baby," Eddie soothes, resting a hand splayed across Richie's back. "Show me how good you can be."

The first swing of the flogger smacks loudly across Richie's left ass cheek, the leather licking over his hipbone. Richie cries out at the startling flash of pain; they haven't used this toy in a while, and he's forgotten just how it stings. The shock of it causes him to clench automatically, feeling the stretch of the plug preventing his body from tightening on itself.

"Count off," Eddie orders, lifting the flogger high.

Richie moans and tries his best to keep count as the flogger comes down again. "O-one- _nnngh!_ Twoo_hhah_, Th-three..."

Each hit has a cascade effect: first the sharp, biting pain that flows outward, across his skin, followed by a painful pleasure that pulses up through his cock and groin, so strong that if he weren't already bowed over, it would force him to. Each pulse causes him to clench, his inner walls tightening around the plug, driving it deeper, harder into his body. He's already so oversensitive from wearing the plug all night that the ache of it curls up his spine, something that can neither be described as pain or pleasure- just _sensation._ It's overwhelming.

Richie loves it, and he lets the feeling wash over him, moving him deeper and deeper into a state of blissful bodily hyperawareness. His skin, which was goosebumping as soon as he shed his clothes, is beginning to flush with red, red warmth. He shudders and savors each hit of the flogger, because it will jostle him just enough that his cock sways and brushes the cool, soft comforter below.

"_Edddiiieeee_," Richie moans, twisting his wrists so he can grip the bedspread and hold onto something. He kind of wishes he'd put his face on a pillow. Oh well. "More, please..."

Eddie's hand suddenly grips his scalp, twisting Richie's hair painfully but holding his head down against the bed. "That's not what you call me right now, Richie," Eddie explains. "Try again."

"S-sir..." Richie swallows, licking his lips. "Sorry."

"Good boy." Eddie lets Richie's hair go, returning his hand to Richie's back. "You're being so good for me right now, Richie, can you keep doing that?"

"Mhmm," Richie answers, barely nodding so as not to move. The rational part of his mind knows that they're both equal adults and if Richie needed to, Eddie would end this all right now. But the lust-driven, fantasy part wants to be so good for Eddie, to be his good boy, to listen and in doing so, please him. And the latter part is the one driving the stick shift right now, so to speak. 

(The stick shift is his penis).

"Okay,” Eddie says. “We had counted off to thirteen. Still green?"

"Yessir."

Eddie's response is to land a fourteenth blow, shocking a low moan out of Richie and an internal pulse of some deeper carnal pleasure. His entire ass is stinging with a warm, dull tingle. Richie presses his forehead to the mattress and whimpers. God, if he manages to get through this without falling apart, it will be a miracle. But Eddie knows that's what Richie likes. To be taken apart bit by bit, so that Eddie can soothe his aches and wounds and put him back together.

Richie's cries are becoming increasingly louder, more desperate as they pass twenty-seven blows, twenty-eight, twenty-nine... His whole body begins to tremble, then shake as it becomes harder and harder to hold this position while being flogged. Behind him, Eddie remains silent, other than the _swish_ of his arm when he strikes. Richie wishes he would say something. Anything. The quiet is awful; he feels like he's alone, forced by someone who doesn't even care to stay and watch as he's beaten into submission.

At the thirty-second blow, Richie lets out a wet sob, and Eddie's arm freezes mid strike. 

"Please, sir!" Richie begs, pain drunk and unable to take it anymore. "Wanna see you... I've been good, haven't I?"

Richie hears the _thunk_ of the flogger's handle as Eddie sets it down. "Of course you have," Eddie says, shifting around the bed so Richie can see him. He's smiling softly. "You've been a fucking rockstar, Richie. We're all done with the flogger for now, I think. I'm going to just leave it out though, just to remind you what happens when you start trouble."

Eddie eases Richie down to lie on his stomach and strokes his hair soothingly. Eddie tossed off his suit jacket when they started, and now he undoes his cufflinks, rolling up the navy-blue sleeves. Richie watches him with rapt attention as Eddie slides onto the bed in front of Richie, settling with his back to the pillows. He leans forward and grabs the end of Richie's tie, tugging on it. "Come here."

Richie crawls up the length of the bed, feeling every bit of burn left over from the flogger's abuse. It's morphed into a warm kind of pleasure, and he's wallowing in it, floating as he slides into Eddies lap, naked limbs draping to rest over Eddie's clothed body.

"Mmmmm," Richie says, resting his head on Eddie's shoulder. "You smell good."

Eddie chuckles and kisses the side of Richie's hair. "You bought me this aftershave, dingus."

"I'm a very smart, savvy shopper," Richie replies. "I know what makes you happy."

"Yeah, you do," Eddie says, tugging Richie back by the tie so they can look at one another. "Now be a good boy and get my cock wet so I can fuck you."

Richie nods eagerly, moving back onto the bed to kneel in front of Eddie. He slips the button of Eddie's fly loose as he noses his face between the vee of Eddie's shirt, where Eddie has popped open the top two buttons. Just the thought of getting his mouth on Eddie's cock is activating Richie's oral fixation, so he mouths at Eddie's chest, savoring the way Eddie shivers. The zipper slides down easily, and gently, Richie extracts Eddie's cock from the confines of his clothing.

Eddie's cock is just as thick as the plug currently inside of Richie, and longer too. Richie loves being on it, loves being bent over things or having his legs pushed up in the air as Eddie fucks into him slow, making sure Richie feels every inch of that thick member. Sure, sometimes Richie likes doing the fucking - who doesn't like some variety in their sex life? - but if forced to choose one role for the rest of his life by the mechanisms of some crazy magic spell or weird sex pollen thing, Richie would choose to be the one getting fucked.

Almost as much as he loves being on Eddie's cock, Richie loves sucking it. There's so much girth and length to play with, and he can never get it all down, but boy does Eddie love it when he tries. Sometimes Richie will have his head lying in Eddie's lap, watching TV, and they'll both be drowsy and half asleep, but Richie will get in a mood and slide Eddie's boxers down enough to mouth at Eddie's prick, and it doesn't take Eddie long to get going after that, his hands dug into Richie's hair, fucking up into his mouth, gasping and wheezing and cursing Richie's name, until that final release when he's crying out for Richie in a much different manner.

So yeah, Richie likes sucking Eddie's cock.

Eddie is already achingly hard, sitting back as Richie kisses the tip of his prick and mouths a wet circle around the head. "Don't dawdle," Eddie orders, flicking Richie gently in the forehead. "Just do enough to get me wet; you already prepped yourself well enough, and I'm impatient tonight."

"Yessir," Richie replies again, leaning farther forward so he can slide the tip past his lips and swallow down. Eddie moans and nods his head. Richie loves seeing him like this, so pleased with himself, so blissful, so confident in Richie's ability to follow commands. Just like Richie has to trust Eddie to not abuse his submission, Eddie has to trust his own skill to make Richie obey. 

He really shouldn't worry; Eddie's a bossy little bastard on the best of days. In the bedroom, he _excels_.

Eddie slides a hand through Richie's hair, gripping, and Richie lets his eyes flutter shut as Eddie guides him up and down in what seems to be his preferred rhythm. 

"See, Trashmouth?" Eddie mumbles, the vibrations of his voice traveling up through his cock. "Your mouth's not just good for one thing."

Richie moans and nods in agreement. He's ready to agree to basically anything Eddie asks at this point. His brain has settled into that comfortable, content state; floating in dopamine, with each opportunity to display his obedience flooding more of it through his pleasure centers. Time is quickly becoming an unknowable concept; it feels like he's only been sucking Eddie's cock for seconds before he's being pulled off and dragged back onto Eddie's lap.

"Settle down," Eddie says, smoothing a hand down Richie's back to rest on his ass again. "I'm going to take the plug out. It's probably going to feel bad for a minute, but I promise I'm going to replace it with something much nicer. Okay?"

Richie nods, smiling and nuzzling into Eddie's neck, draping his arms around Eddie's shoulders. "Izzit your cock, sir? Can I have it? I've been good."

"Of course, Rich," Eddie says, as his fingers slide down.

The hard silicone of the plug remains firm and unyielding, and so when Eddie starts to pull it out, the thicker middle stretches Richie's rim wider. Richie lets out a pained gasp and dig his toes into the mattress. It's a deep burn, made even worse by the way Richie's ass has been thoroughly destroyed by the flogger.

"S-stop!" Richie whimpers. "Wait, I- I can't!"

"Richie," Eddie says as he pauses his hand, the bulb still held where it stretches Richie out. "I promise you'll be happier if I take it out. What's your color? Tell me your color."

"G-green," Richie says, gritting his teeth. Fine. If Eddie believes in him, he can do this.

"Good boy," Eddie says, and he resumes working the plug out of Richie's body.

The next ten seconds are filled with immense pressure, and then suddenly it's all gone, leaving Richie feeling empty and hollow. Eddie tosses the plug aside - not even bothering to put it on a tissue or clean it, the _rebel_ \- and remedies the empty feeling by scooting Richie forwards until they're chest to chest, before gripping the shaft of his cock and guiding it inside of Richie. It slides so easy and fills him so deep. Richie whines and spreads his legs farther, taking more of it in, as far as he can. He's greedy for it, he wants to feel claimed completely.

"Fucking _god_," Eddie groans, wrapping his arms around Richie's back and bucking up into him. "You're so tight for me."

"Yes!" Richie cries, wriggling on his lap. The dopamine flood is now drowning Richie in bliss, every inch of his skin alight with pure pleasure. "M-more, please, Eddie, more..."

Eddie doesn't even seem to notice Richie's name slip up, or he's choosing to ignore it, too focused on the sensation of plunging over and over into Richie's body. "You like taking my cock, Richie?" Eddie asks, mouthing at Richie's throat. "Like feeling it deep?"

"Y-_e_-es!" Richie keens. He's gone, all the way gone. Nothing but pleasure and sensation.

"Look at you," Eddie continues. "Writhing around like a slut. Greedy for a little cock. You wanted it so bad, you risked being embarrassed in public, so you'd be ready for it when we got home."

Oh, dirty talk? Richie can get behind this.

"I needed it," Richie moans, digging his fingers into Eddie's hips. "Needed _you_."

"Yeah?" Eddie pushes Richie down onto his back, and Richie sobs desperately when Eddie slides out of him, only to flip Richie onto his stomach and thrust back into him. "I think you needed to be reminded who owns your ass. Jesus, Richie… _fuck_!"

Richie nods eagerly, digging his knees into the bed so Eddie's cock goes deeper each time. "You you you _youyouyouyou_," he agrees. "Always you, only you, promise Eddie..."

"Remember," Eddie mutters against Richie's ear, pinning his hands to the bed. "I'm the only one who can give you what you really want, Rich. All you have to do is listen and be a good boy."

Eddie takes Richie hard and fast, which is just what he needs after this long, drawn out sequence of sexual torture. Richie doesn't have the energy at this point to do much more than keep his legs spread and his body open. The furious hardness of his own prick rubbing against the bedspread becomes too much very quickly, and even though Richie gasps out a warning, Eddie seems to ignore it, or doesn't care. He keeps fucking Richie hard, right through the wave and crest of the orgasm Richie rides, as Richie is yelling and writhing on the bed. Eddie keeps going with firm thrusts, his panting getting louder, right up until he too gasps and empties himself inside Richie.

The next few minutes for Richie are foggy, mostly remembered in the physical senses: gentle hands, an aching emptiness, something warm and wet being brushed over his skin. He knows Eddie is talking; mutedly, Richie feels himself giving basic responses, but the words are fuzzy and don't stick in his brain. Then he feels hands guiding him down, softness and warmth enveloping him.

When Richie can finally make sense of the world again, he finds himself bundled in a mountain of blankets, his head and half his torso resting on Eddie's chest. Eddie's taken off his shirt, so Richie can rub his cheek against the downy hairs and purr contentedly.

"I feel like I just got fucked by a freight train," Richie mumbles, smiling when Eddie chuckles. "Was it good for you too?"

"Fucking amazing, Rich," Eddie agrees, stroking Richie's hair. "How are you feeling? We got really intense there, I wanna make sure you process it all in a healthy way."

"Well, 'm all ooey gooey." Richie yawns, nuzzling Eddie's chest. "Everything's still kinda floaty."

"Good floaty?"

"Think so. You had fun?"

Eddie nods. "Probably more than I should've. Sometimes I wonder if this is just a shitty way for me to get the control that I didn't feel I had when I was a kid."

Richie shrugs. "Well, sometimes I wonder if this is a shitty way to process my anxiety over having an unstable career that could leave me penniless if I fuck it up. So, I guess we both have issues."

"Guess so." Eddie leans down, catching Richie's mouth in a gentle kiss. He's always so soft afterwards in the way he touches Richie. It's endearing. "You want me to run a bath? Cook you something? Curl up on the couch with you and watch a comedy special?"

Richie feels the fog on his brain starting to lift, replaced with a sense of peace and contentment. He's calmer than he was before, and his thoughts are clearer. Despite it being past... one in the morning? He's not quite ready to sleep "Yes, yes, and yes. You know, Mulaney's gonna get real snippy now that I've got an Emmy and he doesn't. Let's post a picture of us on Insta with the statue. See how long it takes him to passive aggressively subtweet me."

"Oh, I'm not getting involved in your comedy lovers' quarrel," Eddie says. "And I will delete your Twitter again if you try and pit your fan base against his. His wife actually likes me, and I don't want to ruin our Hollywood event friendship because some dumb Manchild kidnapped Petunia or something."

"I'm practically your husband!" Richie yelps, mock offended. "And you're choosing my arch-enemy's wife's needs and desires over mine?"

"You both actually like each other, dipshit, don't lie to me," Eddie says. "I've seen your Netflix history. And your Twitter DM history."

Richie can't argue with that.

"Hey. Tell me you love me," he says, changing the subject.

Eddie frowns. "I love you, Richie. Always have, always will."

"And even if I fuck up and piss you off, you'll still love me."

"I mean, that happens pretty frequently, so obviously?"

"Okay." Richie nods. "I know all that stuff we just did is a fantasy, but I'm a needy bitch who needs constant reassurance and validation."

Eddie smiles, something warm and fond that melts Richie's interior like a chocolate Easter bunny. 

"I don't need you to be perfect, baby," Eddie says, leaning up to kiss him again. "Mmmm. I just need you to be my Richie."

"I think I can handle that," Richie says. "As long as you're my Eddie."

"Of course," Eddie replies.

That, Richie thinks, is worth more than any award in the world.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if this is steamy enough for ya'll and I might make it a series >:3
> 
> Find me on twitter/tumblr @nighthawkms
> 
> EDIT: Shout-outs to Em and Rsch for spotting the two Stephon references. I can't remember if I put any more, but if you see another one, let me know!


End file.
